Talking of Michelangelo
by lookupatthesky
Summary: There are other things Alex Rider could be doing right now. Alex/Yassen. Slash, explicit sexual scenes, etc. You have been warned.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Alex Rider or The Love Story of J. Alfred Prufrock.

**Warnings: **Very explicit slash. You have been warned.

**Author's Note:**There are many mentions in this to the T.S. Eliot poem "The Love Story of J. Alfred Prufrock"... it's in my bio if you want to read it. It's probably my favorite poem ever.

* * *

**Talking of Michelangelo**

There are other things Alex Rider could be doing right now. Better, more productive things, like saving the world or helping Jack make dinner. He could be catching up on his schoolwork or practicing football with Tom.

The fact is, he's not doing any of these things. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Alex stares breathlessly up at Yassen Gregorovich, who's staring back with a much calmer look on his face. The assassin is a couple inches taller and several years wiser, and sometimes that bothers Alex. But he's comforted by the knowledge that they are both in the same hotel room wanting the same thing. The evidence of that is pressing up insistently against Alex's thigh.

"Missed you," Alex mumbles between kisses, his entire being shuddering as Yassen's hands travel up under his shirt. His breath stutters and his heart races and how could he want anything else?

"We saw each other yesterday," Yassen reminds him, but he grinds his pelvis harder against Alex's anyways, his raw need not completely masked. Yassen roughly pulls Alex's shirt over his head and presses their naked chests together.

"Yes," Alex agrees, "but we didn't get to do _this_." He grinds back wantonly. Before Yassen, he never would have pegged himself as the sort of person that would do the whole going-to-a-hotel-room-to-have-passionate-sex-with-an-older-man thing. But that was before. Now, it's as natural as anything else in his life. Maybe even more natural, because it's not like Alex's life could be considered average.

As Yassen bends down to suck on his neck and runs his hands over his nipples, Alex reaches down and unbuttons Yassen's jeans, pulling them down and sticking his hand into the man's boxers. Yassen's pulsating hard-on fits right into Alex's hand as he starts pumping his hand up and down the member. His other hand clumsily pulls down Yassen's boxers, and Alex's vaguely notices Yassen kicking them off impatiently after his jeans.

Alex quickens his ministrations, tightening his hold slightly and quickening his pace. Yassen's panting in his ear, and just that makes Alex more excited, because Yassen isn't the sort to show his emotions or be vocal, and Alex loves breaking him out of that charade. He runs a hand over the tip of the man's cock and feels the twitch of Yassen's pale hips. Alex loves it.

He's about to go down, but before he can Alex is distracted by Yassen, who is pulling off the last of Alex's clothing. They're beautifully naked, hot skin pressing up against hot skin. Alex writhes eagerly under Yassen, looking up at the man under his lashes and ready to beg for more.

"Damn it, I-I can't – I need…" Alex gasps, arching up and thrusting unabashedly as Yassen's hand slips around his throbbing cock. He writhes and whimpers and pants, wondering how the fuck Yassen can be so good at this.

Older and wiser and knowing all the tricks, Yassen skillfully strokes and kneads, and massages and squeezes – and _God_, Alex wants _more_. His fingernails dig into Yassen's back, sure to leave marks, and his hair is already sticky and matted to his forehead.

"What do you need, Alex?" Yassen teases, whispering hotly into Alex's ear, his thumb running over Alex's head as the other hand holds Alex's hips still, pinning them against the bed. Alex's eyes squeeze shut in pure bliss. He is vaguely aware of his hands flying out and grasping at the sheets, desperate for something to grab onto.

"I need – fuck! Just fucking –" Alex lets out a guttural groan as Yassen's hand moves from his cock to his entrance, the man's fingernail circling it lightly and making Alex shudder with naked pleasure.

"Yes?"

"Just-please," Alex's head swims as Yassen starts kissing his collarbone. He feels the finger leave his entrance and Alex whimpers and squirms, bucking up into empty air. "Damn it, just fuck me," he moans.

Immediately, Yassen's finger returns, cool and slick. He enters without hesitation, and Alex groans, pushing up against the finger and imbedding it further in him. Yassen knows what he's doing, knows where to go, and Alex sees stars as Yassen's finger hits that bundle of nerves deep within him.

As Yassen strokes that special spot, he adds another finger, and another, but Alex doesn't even notice because _fuck_ it feels so_ good_. His hands fly up to grip Yassen's back, and Alex's lips part, letting out choked moans and whines. Yassen stretches him methodically until Alex's is babbling, pleading, practically delirious with pleasure.

He doesn't even notice Yassen's fingers are gone until he feels something much bigger pressing up against his hole. Yassen enters slowly, steadily, and Alex gasps. He bucks up to meet Yassen, the pleasure and bliss outweighing any possible discomfort. And then Yassen is in him all the way, his balls pressed up against Alex intimately.

"Yes, _God_, please…" Alex moans as Yassen stills, his cock throbbing inside of Alex. "_Move_."

Yassen complies, withdrawing and plunging back in slowly at first, then quickening as his need increases. He lifts Alex up slightly and Alex can barely think because Yassen's hitting that spot _every time_. Alex moans, low and keening, and his legs wrap themselves around Yassen's waist, pulling him closer. Yassen's thrusts become shorter, faster, harder, and Alex is in heaven.

Alex bucks shamelessly up to meet Yassen, loving the small intakes of breath and minute moans the man makes whenever Alex squeezes his muscles just so around him. Then one of Yassen's hands moves from Alex's hip to his cock, and Alex doesn't know whether to buck forward or back. Yassen pumps and thrusts without stop, and Alex knows he won't be able to last for much longer. He gasps for breath, his entire body in sensory overload. He feels Yassen's hand travel towards his balls and gently cup them before sliding down his slick cock. Yassen focuses on the cockhead, gently kneading it over and over… Alex lets out a shout, it's just too much. He can't take much more.

He can feel the telltale burning in his stomach, and he's _so close_…

Yassen leans down, his breath hot and heavy against Alex's ear, and Alex bites his lip, his head thrashing against the pillow. Yassen's thumb runs over Alex's head one last time.

With one last thrust and a strangled cry, Alex comes, the waves of pleasure washing over him and sending him into oblivion. He squirms and arches his back as his cum splatters in between his body and Yassen's. Panting, Alex shuts his eyes and rides out the bliss.

He's vaguely aware of Yassen's low groan as Alex's muscles squeeze down around the man's cock, sending Yassen over the edge as well.

And then it's all over. Alex pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Yassen pulls out of him. Their chests are sticky, squelching against each other, and Alex sighs with content as his breathing slows.

His heart is still racing as Yassen falls beside him, pulling Alex closer. Alex doesn't object and instead snuggles into Yassen's arms, smiling as he feels the other man's racing heart.

Gradually their heartbeats slow down, beating in unison as Alex's eyes flicker shut.

"I love you," Alex mumbles against Yassen's skin.

"And I you," Yassen replies in that warm, loving voice that he only uses when their alone and at their most intimate.

Alex feels Yassen brush away his hair and kiss his forehead tenderly as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Alex wakes up a couple hours later to the sound of the television and the feel of skin against skin. He's still naked, he realizes, snuggled under the covers and curled up against Yassen, who is propped up against his own pillows and watching the news, which appears to be in Japanese.

"I can't understand that," Alex complains, and Yassen chuckles softly before switching the channel to a news station that is broadcasting in French. Alex shifts slightly and settles in to listen.

"I ordered room service," Yassen tells him after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Alex nods sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

Alex nods.

"I'm going to take a shower," he says finally, realizing that Yassen has already done so. The man's hair is wet, and he's wearing his boxers now. Alex wonders if Yassen ever even fell asleep.

By the time Alex is out of the shower in a fluffy, loosely-tied bathrobe, the room service is sitting on a tray next to the bed. Alex lifts the covers off the plates to find a plate of poached eggs, toast, and bacon and another plate of Belgian waffles. There's another dish of assorted fruit and the fourth has sausage, more toast, and home fries on it.

"Thanks," Alex says with a grin, grabbing the plate of waffles and utensils before climbing onto the bed. He sits cross-legged and places the plate in front of him. Yassen watches Alex for a moment before taking the plate of eggs and bacon for himself.

"There's coffee," Yassen offers. Alex looks up with interest and Yassen wordlessly pours him a cup and hands it over. Alex was always more of a tea person before Yassen, but Yassen is undeniably a coffee drinker, and a little bit of that has rubbed off on Alex.

He pours a liberal amount of cream and sugar into it – Yassen pour himself a cup and leaves the coffee black – and sits back, using a spoon to stir the concoction.

Alex stares down at the coffee and mumbles, "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons."

Yassen looks up with the ghost of a smile on his face. He's positioned himself so he's sitting in a fashion similar to Alex's, across from him.

"We're studying poetry in English," Alex explains as he starts cutting his waffles.

"I enjoy that poem."

"Cause you can relate to it? I mean, you are getting pretty old, and all," Alex teases.

Yassen shoots him a look as he butters his toast, but doesn't seem too bothered.

Alex takes his spoon out of his cup of coffee and reaches back, stretching until he finally reaches the room service tray and can place the spoon on it. When he returns to the sitting position, he finds Yassen staring hungrily at him. Alex grins.

"In the room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo," he recites. "That's the only other part I remember."

"And indeed there will be time, to wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'" Yassen continues the poem mindlessly. He returns to buttering his toast as he says, "As a matter of fact, I have a new Michelangelo painting at my house."

"How did you get that?"

Yassen gives Alex a somewhat amused look.

Alex rolls his eyes. "I didn't realize you had broadened your skills to stealing paintings. And for yourself, nonetheless." He pours the syrup on the waffles.

"I had the inclination to collect a new Michelangelo, and so I did. Retirement opens up a great deal of free time." Yassen gives Alex a meaningful look. "You should try it."

"Yeah, yeah," Alex shrugs him off. "I only have five more years to go until I'm free."

"Five years is a lot of time."

"Well, it's not like I've got a lot to work with, or anything."

Yassen is silent, and Alex looks down at his food and starts eating. He doesn't like fighting about this sort of thing.

"When do your winter holidays start?" Yassen asks.

"In two weeks," Alex says, looking up with mild interest.

"I am going to be in Switzerland," Yassen pauses. "If you have no other plans, you could join me."

Alex stares.

He's been having sex with Yassen for a year. It's only been about six months since he realized he has feelings for Yassen, and about two since he has acknowledge it's love. He told Yassen so just about three weeks ago.

In all of the time their relationship was developing, they never went farther than hotel rooms while Yassen is visiting London.

Maybe it's time that changed.

"Yeah," Alex says, nodding slowly. "Okay. I'll ask Jack."

He smiles, and Yassen smiles back.

They finish breakfast in relative silence, but Alex doesn't mind, and afterwards the time is filled with lazy kisses and warmth and laughter.

He'll have to go home, soon, Alex knows. Jack's waiting, and he has homework, and his tutor is supposed to be coming. But all of that can wait, for now. Alex leans over and kisses Yassen and pretends he doesn't have anything else to worry about.

In a minute, Alex thinks.

There is time.

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_Review?_


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